


Memory Fragmentation

by LigeiaMaloy



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Mindfuck, Other, Purgatory, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6068044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LigeiaMaloy/pseuds/LigeiaMaloy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She woke up alone in a strange place she hadn't thought of in ages. Strange, she thought she had been on the Normandy, trying to save someone. Maybe Captain Anderson has some answers, but - hasn't he stepped back and remained on the Citadel? Who was in charge now? Maybe that shadow she has spotted has the answers she needs to complete her broken memory, starting with her full name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory Fragmentation

**Author's Note:**

> Long story short: I failed at a prompt. But now that this fic-thingy has been written I might as well upload it. 
> 
> No fluff, no romantic interaction, instead, lot's of confusion and two female Shepards... well, kind of.
> 
> (I'm a bit frustrated that everything got out of my control, please forgive me that I won't edit before tomorrow -.-)

_I haven_ _’t been here since I was seven._

She walked towards the lifeless horse. Her hand stroke over the wooden mane. Sun and rain had drained the once rich auburn to a pale, orange-ish brown. The carved and painted imitation of white fur had faded to grey, the surface chipped. Music was playing. The same oddly steady rhythm, cheerfulness repeated over and over again until it grew into a haunting tune in her head. She tore her eyes away from the carousel’s horses and looked around.

Laughter was missing. Silence met the smell of wet earth and rotting wood where there should have been happiness and candied apples.

“What did I expect to find, this place was ancient the last time we came here.” Hunting ghosts of the past didn’t belong to her preferred shore leave activities, so that was a riddle for her to solve: What the hell had brought her back to Earth, specifically, this place. She touched her omni-tool and opened a comm channel to the Normandy.

“Captain Anderson? Do you hear me?”

No answer.

“Wait a moment, didn’t he stay on the Citadel? What’s going on here?” Yes, she remembered. She had been selected as the first human Spectre, and Anderson had told her his story with Saren, and that the Normandy was the best ship a Spectre could use to hunt Saren down. He regretted that he had to stay behind, yes, she recalled the sadness in the eyes of an adventurer who had just been tied to a desk. But who was in charge now? Her mind wandered through the Normandy. There was Pressly, Dr. Chakwas. She walked past Kaidan and watched Ashley talking to her sister for a moment. No, those were all good people, but none of them close to the rank of a Captain.

She took a turn and inspected the Mako. A shadow fell over her, and she looked up. She squinted, but the odd shape refused to become clear.

“Ugh!” A bolt of pain pierced through her head. Sparks danced in front of her eyes, only to be engulfed by raging flames. The smell of glowing steel and melting plastic shot up her nose and that of burnt human flesh gagged her. Her knees hit on metal when she slumped down, but her hands clawed into moist grass and dirt.

“Dammit.” She lied down, waiting for a cold that wasn’t there to touch her face. Images of death, flames, the broken hull of the Normandy were flooding her mind. She didn’t enter the escape pod, she had to go to the cockpit because of… someone. And then, she had been pulled into space and fought and struggled while the vacuum sucked the air out of her lungs.

“Great, now I’m either in Purgatory or in a coma.” She crawled back onto her knees and sat up. There was the Mako to her right, and the metal floor of the Normandy under her. In front, her eyes stretched the amusement part with its broken roller coasters and withering horses. She lifted her head. The sky stretched above her. Thick clouds heavy with rain covered the sun. She waited for the rain to fall down on her, for a dramatic rolling of thunder in the distance, but the world was frozen in time. Even the air wasn’t moving, no wind that would cool the memories of the fire’s heat.

She caught a movement from the corner of her eye.

“WAIT!” She jumped up and ran towards a shadow. It was about her size, she made out a womanly shape of hips and waist. The shadow waited, as it was told or as it had nowhere else to go. She halted steps away from it, her mouth gasping for needed air.

A woman was standing in front of her. Slim waist, slightly curvy waist. Strong arms and legs. Face pale, head shaved except for the first soft inch of red hair. Round brown eyes rolled up while a mocking smirk greeted her.

“Who are you?” she barked, her hands stemmed on her hips, chin held up. She wouldn’t show any weakness to this monstrosity, bad joke, or whatever this thing was meant to be. “Why are you looking like me?”

“Don’t tell me that of all my possible facets I’m meeting the stupid one?” It was her own voice, coming from her own mouth, but from this other - thing. “I’m you, darling. Kind of. More like, I’m the original, and you’re the copy they’ve made of me.” The thing sneered at her, waving her hand impatiently. Purgatory, fever dream or not, she didn’t believe this absurd figure one word. They _were_ looking alike, and they _were_ wearing the same N7 uniform, but that was as much reality to her than a Mako was standing on a patch of the floor of a spaceship in the middle of an abandoned park.

“Yeah, right.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, mirroring the mocking expression without knowing. “I have no idea what you are, but I’m the only… only…” She knew what she wanted to say, but her mind was blank, as though a piece of information had been ripped out of it without being replaced. She reached into her memory, but there was nothing to slip through her fingers. The grin of that thing widened.

“There’s only one Commander Shepard. Sorry, darling, but you’re nothing but a copy, and not even a very good one. Sorry, sucks to be you.”

She glared at that snarky absurdity that claimed to be… her? No, she didn’t remember being a Commander named Shepard. Why didn’t she? She was aware who she was, she saw memories of her past around her. They were vivid enough for her to expect her mother stepping from behind one of the stalls any moment, calling for her. And her mother wouldn’t call for Commander Shepard, that was… wait. The missing replacement for Anderson, the empty space next to the Mako, the face of the guy she dragged back to the escape pods… and finally, her rank and family name…

“What’s your first name, _Commander Shepard?_ ” If the title and name didn’t mean anything to her it wouldn’t feel wrong to call the thing by it. Yes, she was onto something here. The face in front of her became pale, letting the shadows under her eyes appear darker and deeper than before. It - she - opened her mouth, and closed it again.

“Who cares, nobody calls me by it anyway,” Shepard snorted, turned around and began to walk away. She grinned and followed her.

“So Commander Shepard doesn’t remember her given name. That doesn’t sound superior to me.”

“Leave me alone,” Shepard snapped, giving her a push, but she didn’t slow down.

“It’s Lydia.”

The thing that called herself Shepard stopped, frozen in her step, and stared into the distance. The confusion and fear she saw in her face seemed to have been taken from what she had been feeling since she had woken up in this world. A tender flame of pity glimmered inside of her.

“You think that feels kind of wrong and right at the same time, right?” She smiled at the copy when her head jerked towards her. “Felt the same when you introduced yourself as Commander Shepard. Do you know where we are?” The vague hunch that had formed in her head was becoming clearer, and now it depended on that Shepard’s answer.

“Some kind of shitty playground, ancient as hell. Can’t believe that humans once went to places like this to have fun, ugh!” Shepard turned up her nose and stomped towards the merry-go-round. It was the same from before, she recognized the pattern of cracks on its throat.

 _Guess it doesn't_ _’t matter if we’re walking in circles or if the scenery keeps repeating…_

She walked past the copy of herself, patted the horse’s wooden neck, and swung herself on its back.

“Mom took me here when I was seven.” She looked her other self straight into the eyes. “This carnival only opened a few days every year. She had visited it often when she was a child, and by the time I was born, it had fallen under monument protection. No idea though why it became like this.”

The copy glared at her in silence. Crimson patches appeared on her face and throat, speaking of a rush of anger that she was holding back. Lydia knew this only too well from herself. Suddenly, Shepard calmed down. The color of her face returned to normal, and the larger part of hostility disappeared from her eyes.

“So… that’s what mom meant when she said that I was one of the last kids playing there before the funding was cut off. She went there during her last visit on Earth. I wondered why she sent me a picture of a broken carousel.” Shepard poked the horse’s ear.

“Damn,” she sighed. “I didn’t wonder when I opened the file that day. _I_ wonder because in my memory, I know what all this was about.”

“We aren’t copies.” Lydia jumped from the horse and walked around the carousel. She gestured Shepard to follow her. “Who’s in charge of the Normandy after Anderson stayed on the Citadel?” Shepard looked at her as though she feared Lydia had lost her mind. Which, if she was right, wasn’t too far away from the truth.

“I, of course. After… something happened on the Citadel, with the Council, as far as I remember.”

“ _Something,_ yeah. That something was me being chosen as a Spectre.” The words had the effect Lydia had hoped for - Shepard gasped in surprise.

“Are you kidding me?! That would make me the first human Spectre! I wouldn’t forget something like that!”

“I remember it very well. Something Lydia Something, the first human Spectre, boarding the Normandy. Only… Commander Shepard being in charge of the Normandy stayed with you.” She raised her hand to cut Shepard off when she opened her mouth. “The sight of this thing’s making me depressed.” She pointed at the old, broken merry-go-round ahead of them. “Let’s walk for a bit, you taking the lead.”

“Why?”

“Humor me.”

Shepard shrugged and steered past the carousel. Lydia stayed half a step behind her, her face looking at the ground. The grass faded, and soon, they were pushing forwards through a different kind of vegetation. The grass was higher, growing into bushes and trees with large leaves. The scent of a forest wrapped around them, lush green of all shades sparkled in the sunlight. A sun bigger and more orange than that allowing life on Earth.

“No. No, no, no!” The forest was retreating, and the clearing grew into a wide, open area ahead. Lydia joined Shepard, wondering what had brought the expression of terror to her face.

“Where are we?” They were looking at roughly a dozen containers that formed the settlement of a colony. She recognized the symbols and numbers, this was a human colony. Just with no humans around. Weird, but once in a while, colonies were abandoned, or set up for groups that would arrive later. As it was, it was a creepy sight, yet calm and peaceful.

“Are you dumb? We’re on Akuze!” Shepard grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the forest. Turning her back to the colony, she began to run, pulling Lydia with her. “How can you forget something like this!” she panted, her fingers clenching into Lydia’s muscles.

“Dammit, calm down, you idiot!” She ripped her arm free and slowed down to a moderate pace. “I’m not carrying that memory.” She saw the upset face glaring at her, shuddering at the unusual sight of panic and fear in the familiar eyes. “Looking at you, I’m kinda glad I don’t.” Something in Shepard’s face began to work. The horror went away, and she furrowed her brows as she was thinking.

“You lead. Get me out of here,” Shepard ordered. Lydia smiled as she walked past her. Shepard was catching on, finally. They moved on in silence, neither of them surprised when the forest died away and they were back on the green grass overgrowing the former amusement park. They reached the carousel, this time, Shepard sat down on the horse.

“So you suggest that we’re not exactly copies, but parts of the same person. Embodiments of ourselves, carrying different fragments of our memory?”

Lydia tilted her head, nodding slowly.

“That’s what I’m thinking. Another try: The cargo deck of the Normandy. I remember the Ashley, but I feel like there should be someone standing by the Mako. I guess you know who?”

“Garrus. Garrus Vakarian, turian C-Sec officer,” Shepard shot back the answer without thinking. “Also, there’s Wrex, do you remember him?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” Lydia shook her head. Which was a shame, judging from her other self’s smile. “Who’s the pilot of the Normandy?” she asked.

“Joker. The guy with some kind of disease, can’t remember his real name.”

“I have the name Jeff Moreau here, connected with brittle bone-disease, could that be him?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” Shepard sighed. “Makes sense, however. Seems like you’re right. Our memory got split. Do I want to know how I died?”

“So I’m really dead? Dammit, I was beginning to hope this is my brain trying to put myself back together.” Lydia leaned against the horse’s head with her back, sighing herself. This wasn’t how she had imagined the afterlife, caught between fragments of her memories, in the company of a less agreeable part of her personality.

“I’m not dead!” Shepard hissed without a hint of doubt. “I _was_. But _they_ are about to change it.”

“Now you’re talking bullshit, dead is dead, and who should _they_ be anyway?” Wonderful, the part of the mind that she had lost was losing its mind.

“How should I know? I was dead most of the time!” Shepard threw her head back, growling in frustration. “I remember dying, though not how and why. Next, I hear voices, just for a second. Something about ‘bringing Shepard back’, and ‘memory reconstruction in progress’. And ‘copy of her, we might need a backup’. Back to the darkness again, and then I woke up in this freaking mockery of Disneyland.” She stared at the fake mane of the old horse. “I concluded that _somebody_ is trying to resurrect me, and making a copy, which is, you.”

“You wish.” Could she believe this Shepard-woman, had she been dead and was about to be resurrected? For all she know, she could be lying unconscious on the floor, having a weird dream after having a taste of Ryncol, and her doppelganger nothing but a vision made up by her own intoxicated brain. If they were right, however, she was experiencing something that no being with a soul should ever experience. She wanted to live, as long as possible, and if there was a chance to return she’d take it. That didn’t make it right. What worried here was that this strange theory could be true. Absurd as the idea, on the whole, was, it made sense in the details she had witnessed, heard and thought since she had woken up. When would she reach the point when she was back to her self, when would she know that she was Commander Lydia Shepard, who died when the Normandy was attacked, who had visited this park as a child with her mother, who had seen something on Akuze that left an emotional scar? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to remember that, but the way her other self’s face had lit up when she spoke about this Wrex and Garrus, she felt that she was missing something good here.

Lydia looked up, hoping to find a sign of the sun in the sombre sky. She was growing sick of this gloomy world, Purgatory, limbo, whatever this was, and its incompleteness, and the incompleteness of herself. Anything for some brightness.

“Once I’m back, first thing I’ll do is telling joker to head for the next sun, and circle it for the next ten hours.”

“Who?”

Lydia turned to the other woman, meeting a puzzled gaze.

“Joker. You know, Jeff, the pilot of the Normandy,” she explained, watching as the confusion turn into realization. And fear.

“No. No!” Shepard jumped from the horse and leaped at Lydia.

Lydia dodged the attack, taking a step back. Her heel hit the edge of a step, and she lost her balance.

Before she hit the ground, Shepard was above her, her hands clenching Lydia’s shoulders.

“You’re not taking them from me! I am the original! Give them back!” she screamed, shaking Lydia.

Her head hit the ground once, then he tensed the muscles of her neck and shoulders. She grabbed one of Shepard’s wrists. The palm of her other hand rammed against Shepard’s nose. A bone cracked. The other woman shouted in anger, letting go of Shepard while holding her hands against her face. There was no blood.

“I’m sorry, but looks like the memories are mine.” Lydia Shepard stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off her clothes. Once again, she felt pity for the other woman, vessel, whatever she was. She looked so real, the fear in her eyes was so real. Seeing her own eyes, she knew that the fear and pain weren’t an illusion. This woman wasn’t Commander Lydia Shepard, maybe she wasn’t even human, as they were both nothing but projections of a mind, but she seemed sentient.

“Stop! No!” The woman was back to her feet, her hands shooting forwards and grabbing for Lydia Shepard’s throat. Shepard stood still. The woman’s grip was strong and desperate but lacked the will to kill. Her face was a grimace of terror, not much unlike when she had remembered Akuze moments ago. Lydia still didn’t know anything about that. Faces completed her life, voices, barking laughter of a krogan merc, chuckles of a turian officer, a giggling quarian girl…

“Wrex! Garrus! Tali! Liara” She laughed with delight, drunken from the flood of good memories. “How could I forget you!”

The other woman groaned. Her hands let go of Shepard’s throat. Her legs gave in under the weight of a growing emptiness. Slowly, she was sinking to the ground, her hands holding to Shepard’s legs.

“I’ve always loved you…”

“Me?!” The words pulled Lydia Shepard back from her own world of memories. There was a tingling warmth that pulled her to the memory of on of her friends, but it faded away in the shadows before she could focus.

The other woman’s body tensed, her head jerked up. Tears were running over her hard face.

“Not you, you dumb bitch, I hate you! I hope they’ll fail! I hope you’ll rot away in this freaking hell!”

The spite that should have hurt her only made her sad. She looked at the mirror image of herself. The gaps in her memory had confused herself, still did as parts were still missing. It as terrifying enough that she hadn’t been able to reach into the darkness and find what she had felt should have been there. She failed to imagine the horror this poor woman, this feeling, thinking copy, had to feel now that all she had known to be herself was slipping away from her.

“Listen.” She knelt down and put her hand on the shaking shoulder of the sobbing woman. “I’m sure we’re both real, in a way. Even when the memories are mine. We’ll find a way to complete you, to make you as real and-”

“No, you listen.” The woman’s lips weren’t moving. Her eyes were vacant. The green of the grass behind her shimmered through her body. “I’ll make it. I’ll find you. Then I’ll kill you and take back what is mine!” The voice whispered around Shepard, chill as a breeze, the words heavy with the promise as the clouds with rain. Yet, there was still no anger in Shepard, only pity, and sadness.

“It doesn’t have to end like this. Trust me, I-” Shepard froze. Akuze was back. A thresher maw shot out of the ground. Dirt and stones rained down on her and buried her in a silent, dreamless darkness that had no room for the fears and confusions of what might have been a copy of her.

 

~~

 

“The brain activity of number 2 is back to normal. Memory defragmentation at 70%.”

“Good. Make sure to erase every possible perception from since we started. We need her back to the 100% from right before her death.”

“Will do, Miss Lawson. I’m going to call you once we’ve fried the replica’s brain.”

“Deleting will do, Brooks, in case we need the physical matter for Shepard. Well, I have to see the Illusive Man. I trust you to with the project until my return.”

 


End file.
